


The Imaginary Letters

by Bolt_DMC



Category: Bolt (2008)
Genre: Art, Atlanta, Baseball, Birmingham (US City), Book Signings, Boston, Charleston (Location), Chicago (City), Cincinnati, Conventions, F/M, Humor, LGBTQ Character, Memphis (US City), Music, New Orleans, New York City, Oklahoma City, Original Character(s), Philadelphia, Post-Canon, Suggestive Themes, Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-16
Updated: 2019-09-16
Packaged: 2020-10-06 08:56:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20504306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bolt_DMC/pseuds/Bolt_DMC
Summary: Penny and Bolt are off on a long book-signing and meet-and-greet tour in support of the new "Bolt" book and film. The dog misses Mittens -- really, really misses her, too -- and makes up correspondence in his head to keep his sweetheart close to his thoughts. Another travelogue story, with lots about the attractions in the cities visited. Primary cultural references include the self-titled first album by The Romantics, the Neil Young song "Cinnamon Girl," Beethoven’s Immortal Beloved letters, and paintings such as "A Sunday Afternoon on the Island of La Grande Jatte" by Georges Seurat and a Pablo Picasso self-portrait.





	The Imaginary Letters

**Author's Note:**

> Timeline: July 2013.
> 
> For A., C., R., S., and T., my nieces and nephews.

Part I: First in Line

My dearest Mittens,

If I could put pen to paper, or type on a computer or phone, I would be setting all this down for you to read later. Of course, I can't do that. Silly paws! And a speech program’s no good, either. It’ll just print out "woof-woof" if I talk into it, won’t it? So I’ll have to pretend I'm writing to you, babe. Fortunately, my imagination is as lively as ever. And it keeps you stronger in my thoughts, and me happy.

Remember when we talked about Beethoven's "Immortal Beloved" letters just a couple days before I left? He wrote them but never sent them -- they were discovered squirreled away after he died. Squirrel? Did I say squirrel? Who am I, Dug from the movie "Up?" Anyway, looks like I'm doing Beethoven one better. I'm not even corresponding with you for real, am I? You won't read this, and it'll last only as long as my thoughts do. But that's good enough for me, and it's the best I can manage. Still, I guess there's a lot to be said for a letter in the ether. I can think or say anything I want -- anything at all -- and I'll never have to answer for it to anyone. That kind of anonymity has its good points.

It's the first day of our support tour for the new "Bolt" retrospective book and movie release in the fall (Penny and I have a cameo appearance in the latter, as you remember). Funny, isn't it? We haven't been on the show for five years now, and the program itself was canceled last year. But thanks to late afternoon and early evening reruns, we’re still all over the TV and arguably more popular than ever. I've been led to understand there's a really strong cult following for the show in a "so-bad-it’s-good," Ed Wood, Jr. sort of way. You know how I feel about "Bolt" -- glad I did it, but a little embarrassed at how earnest I was on such a silly program. Rhino was a great guy, but wow -- his devotion to my show was puzzling, gotta say. Oh well -- it's why we’re living in our nice farmhouse without a money care in the world. There's lots to be said for that, especially when I hear stories about your housing project and alley cat days back when. Beats sleeping in a cardboard box on the street, doesn't it? Anyway, there’s still very heavy demand to meet us these days, and Penny says it's a good way to stick some cash away towards college and see some of the USA. I hope we get to some art museums. Penny brought my special color glasses with her, and I can't wait to use them.

Our first stop was Charleston, South Carolina. After our long first day's autograph session and meet-and-greet, we saw lots of great stuff the next day. Took the ferry ride to Fort Sumter, where the Civil War started. Funny place in a way -- it's in the middle of watery nowhere on a dot of land not much bigger than the fort itself. Some of it's intact and some of it isn't, but you can just imagine the artillery fire if you close your eyes and think hard enough -- very atmospheric for a ruined spot. Came back on shore and walked around the Battery neighborhood. Penny loved seeing all the historic houses, and we even got to tour a couple. As for me, I marveled at the ocean in this area, which is higher than the surrounding land. Good thing there’s a sturdy seawall keeping the water out -- for now anyway. Finished up at a charming outdoor cafe, where we had shrimp and grits and she-crab soup. Been told it's the ultimate Low Country comfort food. True? Not true? Who knows? It was delicious, and felt comfortable in this doggy’s tummy. Now I know why you like seafood so much!

Anyway, flying out tonight and once we get to Atlanta, this old shepherd’s gonna go beddy-bye. The hotel here had a nice room, with a queen bed all to myself! Hope the one at the next stop is as good. I'll be dreaming about you, I hope. Naughty dreams, too, if I'm lucky. Miss you already, darn it.

Love,

Bolt

Part II: Girl Next Door

Mittens, my sweet,

I decided for whatever reason to title each of these imaginary letters after a song from the first album by The Romantics. Y’know, the one we listened to a couple days before I left? It's the one that’s, um… what's that word again that means self-titled? Impetiginous? Anonymous? Cartilaginous? No, that wasn't it… it'll come to me in a minute, or else I'll wake up screaming it in the middle of the night. Anyway, you said this was the best guilty pleasure power pop album of all time. Only I'm not sure there's anything to feel guilty for. Tuneful, catchy, energetic, loaded with punch -- what’s to be embarrassed about? It would be fitting if Detroit were on our itinerary given where the group is from, but it's not. Such is life, I suppose.

Atlanta is okay, a spread out and hilly city for sure. For attractions, there's World of Coke, which tells you all you’ll ever need to know about this stuff and lets you taste as much of their product line as you want. Gave me a seriously explosive case of the burps, which got Penny giggling. Wish I shared her mirth, but it isn’t so funny when it's happening to you. Also went on our first art gallery visit, to the High Museum -- fine place, lots of Southern folk art, which was kinda fun. Saw other odds and ends, plus got to chow down on soul food like fried chicken, yams, greens, cornbread, and goodies like that.

But the most interesting thing was that our next door neighbor at the hotel was Penny's replacement on the "Bolt" show. She has since gone on to star in "The Edge of Passion," which is the most popular soap opera nowadays, or so I've been led to believe. I don’t watch garbage like that. Like us, she's on a book-signing tour in support of her latest show. It was a little awkward running into her at first, but turns out she's really nice -- and became just as disenchanted as Penny did during the show's run. They swapped horror stories about manipulative agents, crazy directors, bean-counting studio executives, and animal actors that weren't always cooperative (though to be fair, they never did set fire to the stage like my first replacement did, thank dog). In fact, we became a happy sightseeing threesome the latter part of our visit here.

This is only the second stop on our trip, and I'm already missing you so much, Mittens. I love spooning you when we sleep. I love the feel of your warm back and smell of your sweet kittycat breath. Sure wish you were here so I could wrap you in my front legs and caress you. Er -- on second thought, maybe I'd better NOT think too hard about it, or I’ll just crave you all the more. There’s an aching pit in my chest that says I miss you, want you, need you. See? See how hard it is to forget you? Even when I try, I can't do it. You'll always have me, babe. I couldn't go without you if I tried.

Eponymous. Ah! That’s the word I was trying to remember earlier. Eponymous. Now I’ll be able to sleep better tonight.

Love,

Bolt

Part III: Keep in Touch

My darling Mittens,

Took a night bus from Atlanta to here. Oops, sorry -- forgot to say that "here" is Birmingham, Alabama. Kind of a non-descript city as urban areas go. Had a fine meet-and-greet session yesterday, and got to break out the color glasses at the local art museum. It's really good, actually -- and it's fortunate that I like Wedgwood porcelain so much since they have a bumper crop of the stuff. Never knew that such a variety was possible from one ceramics firm!

Penny also took me on a leash walk in the section of downtown where the civil rights protests happened in the 1960s. There’s markers that show where key events occurred along the way, as well as memorials in the park where marching protesters gathered before heading off. I remember seeing grainy footage on a documentary show with you about those. That's when the policemen sprayed the civil rights marchers with water cannons and sicced dogs on them. What an abomination! I shake my head just thinking about that image of vicious German shepherds attacking the poor, defenseless protesters. I guess if you could confront those police dogs about such nastiness, they'd just shrug and say they were following orders. But that didn't fly in Nazi Germany, didn't fly then, and doesn't fly now. You have to take some responsibility for your actions. Sorry, but even pooches don't get off the hook that easy. There’s a civil rights museum that gives you a dose of this and much more, including some general history about the city.

We decided to get an early taste of New Orleans for dinner at a po-boy shop. That's pretty much what you Gothamites call a hero sandwich, in case you were wondering. The roll they use is more like a French baguette than the standard hoagie type, and you can get it undressed -- just meat -- or dressed -- with lettuce, tomato, pickles, and mayonnaise. Penny ordered me a roast beef one (Yum!) and she got a softshell crab one. Dressed for her, not dressed for me -- but that's okay ‘cause dogs are never dressed, are they? Plus I'm not a big veggie guy, as you know.

A hero. Ha -- silly me! Here I thought I was one, when it was you all along. You once quipped that a hero is nothing but a sandwich with a lot of ham in it, but you grossly underestimate yourself. I was the "po-boy" here, and I needed the real thing to teach me how to be a dog, how to be humble, how to be kind. And most importantly, how to love someone other than my human. That’s real heroism, if you ask me.

We’re taking a late-night train to the Big Easy soon, and should arrive there early in the morning. I've heard that trains can be really hit-or-miss when it comes to being on time, but it's gotta be more comfortable than the bus was. A greyhound may be a pooch, but I don't think I'd want to ride on his back for a day.

Love,

Bolt

Part IV: What I Like About You

Sweet, sweet Mittens,

Dat-dat-daah-dat-daaah-daaah! Repeat! Clap four times and shout "Hey!" "What I Like About You" -- wow, what a wonderfully boisterous song, and too bad it's been overplayed into cliche. Seems like every other commercial and cartoon borrows it, don't they? Still doesn't change how fine it is. Uh huh…

What I like about New Orleans? Where do I start?

Great food! Muffulettas and po-boys and gumbo and barbecue shrimp and crayfish and oysters and bread pudding and beignets drenched in powdered sugar. There's nothing like it. Penny let me try a little of all that stuff over the past couple days.

Great museums! There’s a big World War II Museum that's fascinating, a huge and wonderful art museum with a sculpture garden outside, even a dusty and silly little museum that tells you everything you'd ever want to know and then some about voodoo.

Great cemeteries! Spooky, above-ground burial spots, fun to see on a tour. Some of them are like mazes.

Great architecture! Saw some impressive houses in the Garden District, as well as the distinctive metal rail front buildings in the French Quarter.

Great music! Love me some jazz, and there's all kinds of places you can hear it. And add zydeco to the musical potpourri.

Too bad the city's built in such a precarious spot. Penny said the only reason New Orleans isn't underwater is because of all the dikes and pumps keeping the water at bay. Or river and lake in this case, as much of the city’s between one of each. But I've got a feeling that NOLA's days are numbered anyway. We walked along the Riverwalk near Canal Street, and when I looked at one of the streets running into the French Quarter, I was surprised to see that it sloped downhill from the riverbank! Boy, am I glad I got to experience this fine city before it drowns.

Should say that our book signing session when we first arrived went swimmingly -- very well attended, very enthusiastic fans. I've given out so many paw print autographs that my foot will probably be dark for a good long while. Not that it bothers me any. Dogs and getting dirty just kind of seem to go together, and me with all my white fur, it’s a given.

What I like about you, Mittens? Y’know, I could spend the rest of the trip listing it all off. Uh huh… Your quick wit. Your mind, as sharp as an ice pick. Your warm heart, which you sometimes like to pretend you don't really have, but I know better -- and so do you. Your honeyed yet tangy voice, like a Chinese sweet and sour dish. Your love of culture, especially music. Your kindness and understanding. Your smoldering, hot sexiness that never fails to get my juices flowing. There's just something about my white fur on your black fur that seems so primal, so animalistic, so steamy.

Boy, oh boy, do I ever miss being with you! So many naughty times together, and I sure do reminisce about them now that we’re apart. Penny’s going out to dinner and a jazz club, so I'll be alone in the hotel room for a while until she returns and gives me some doggie bag treats from the restaurant. She tossed those ugly throw pillows on the bed into a corner, and all this thinking about us together… well, let's just say the maid’s gonna earn her tip cleaning those pillows when I'm done with them. Uh huh…

Miss you, babe -- more than you know.

Love,

Bolt

Part V: Hung on You

My dearest, darling Mittens,

Had an especially productive meet-and-greet and book signing here in Memphis. There's a rabid fan club devoted to the show here. Who’da thunk it? Haven't given out this many paw print autographs in a while. At least not since a couple days ago, eh? Something to be thankful for. They’re really hung on us around here, and that's okay by me.

Lots of "bad area of town" in Memphis, looks like, though we only rode through it. Turns out there's a good bit to do here, though. "Stuck on You" was one of Elvis Presley’s big hits, and that's just a word away from "Hung on You," isn't it? Speaking of The King, Penny and I got to see Graceland, Elvis’s home. It's kind of an unusual place, actually -- like a suburbanite's big, overgrown concept of a mansion, I guess, not like a classic historic Victorian house or something. Elvis sure had funny ideas about classiness, too -- like the "Jungle Room," all festooned in shag carpet, or another room loaded with installed televisions. He was known to shoot his TV sets sometimes when he got angry, so I guess it made sense to have a bunch on hand. Rhino would have considered the television room heaven on earth, wouldn't he? The place was pretty unusual, but loads of fun in its eccentric way.

Also got to tour Sun Studio, which still exists pretty much as it did better than a half-century ago -- the place where Elvis and Johnny Cash and Carl Perkins and Jerry Lee Lewis recorded so much great stuff. You can almost picture it if you look hard enough and let your mind wander there. One of the holy shrines for rock and roll, one of the places where you can say it all started here -- and I got to experience it. Plus, we paid our respects to Otis Redding, Sam and Dave, and Wilson Pickett by touring the Stax Museum.

Turns out there’s a big civil rights museum here like in Birmingham, housed in the former hotel where Martin Luther King was gunned down. Not a lot of essential art museums besides the Belz, which has really fascinating Chinese art of the kind you don't normally see -- things like intricately carved mammoth tusks, gorgeously weird. Both great.

It was also fun to stroll Beale Street, this city's answer to NOLA’s Bourbon Street, though not quite as rowdy. Plenty of music places with great sounds floating out, lots of flashing neon signs, lots of people. Kind of sensory overload, but fun.

And did I say barbecue? I’ve tried some of the molasses red sauce stuff in Kansas City, the vinegar and pepper chopped pork in North Carolina, and the mustard-style goodies in South Carolina, but this city sure holds its own in that department. Couldn't have the dry rub meat because it has onion and garlic powder, but the pork and turkey were smoked so nicely you really didn't need it. Plus, they've got their own local dish called barbecue spaghetti. Yeah, it's just what it sounds like, and it's surprisingly good -- sauce and pork bits on pasta. Yummers!

Back to the former owner of Graceland before I close. There's no shortage of musical royalty, is there? In jazz, there's Duke Ellington and Count Basie. For pop, you’ve got Elvis as the King of Rock and Roll, Michael Jackson as the King of Pop, the Queen of Soul Aretha Franklin, Queen Latifah, and Prince. Maybe Madonna if you’re going the divine route. But Mittens, the member of unofficial royalty I respect most is you, my love. You’re my queen, and I’m your shining knight, your loyal servant, your faithful palace guard. I would gladly do anything for you, even die for you if I must.

I’ll stop being serious and intense now. Sorry about that, Chief.

Love,

Bolt

Part VI: Tell It to Carrie

My dear sweet Mittens,

Another couple days, another city. Oklahoma City, to be precise. Flew in from Memphis on one of those tiny puddle-jumpers that make me nervous because you feel every little dip and shudder. Probably still have claw marks left where I was gripping the front cushion. In fact, the aircraft was so small they had to redistribute us in seats to make sure the plane balanced out right. But hey, we’re here.

OKC has got plenty of good points like anywhere else, but a few things weren’t quite my cup of meat. The book signing and meet-and-greet were well-attended, though -- seems as if they like my old show out here as well.

Went to the museum for the Oklahoma City bombing. Kind of a homespun 9/11 precursor, looks like. Turns out it's a very haunting spot -- has a lot about the tragedy, including some wrenching artifacts. The outdoor part, with a reflecting pool, memorial fence, survivor wall, and field of empty chairs, was hard to shake. Terrible what some humans will do to their own kind, isn't it? They do have an art museum here, and by far the best part are the Dale Chihuly glass pieces -- not the spiky columns you usually see by him, either, but really wide ranging and interesting work. Good place to utilize the color glasses. Also dropped in on a cowboy museum that has some nice Western-style artwork (Frederic Remington and such) and plenty of artifacts. Not as big a fan of the Bricktown Canal area -- good shopping and snacking, but really murky canal water. Even I’d pass on swimming in it. The minor league ballpark is located here, though. Went to a game by the OKC Dodgers, and that was fun. After having participated in a minor-league game myself, it's really enjoyable to take it in as a spectator.

I can't eat one of their iconic foods, the onion burger. Still, this is a great place for the hard-core carnivore. Can you say "steaks?" I know you can, babe. It's a rare (literally) treat for us and impossible to resist. Penny and I went to a steakhouse with outdoor seating. The waitress's name was Carrie, and she was super nice to us. When my steak came out smothered in onions instead of mushrooms, she was really great about correcting it. Ran the dish back, got the mushrooms on it like Penny had ordered, and apologized profusely. She didn't have to say she was sorry -- wasn't her fault. Just one of those dumb kitchen slip-ups that happen sometimes, and the food runner didn't know otherwise. Still, on a trip where we've experienced lots of nice waiters and waitresses, she sure stood out.

Babe, I know you like steak. We've had it once in a while when Penny’s mom cooks on the gas grill outside. You would have really enjoyed this, and of course, I thought of you while I ate it. Not that I’ve needed any excuses to think of you, Mittens. Been a lot on my mind since the trip began.

Don't worry, kiddo -- this time apart won't last forever. And it'll be great to get home and see you. Urgh -- having an adoring public sure isn't all it's cracked up to be. Sometimes, I just wish I could have been somebody's pet my entire life. But hey, I guess there's value in having varied life experiences. Or so I've been told, anyway.

Hope you're holding up okay. I know I miss you like nobody's proverbial business. Can't wait to see your wry grin again!

Love,

Bolt

Part VII: Gimme One More Chance

My lovely Mittens,

Greetings from (take your pick): the Windy City, Mud City, Chi-Town, Second City, the City That Works, the City of the Big Shoulders, the City by the Lake, the City in a Garden, the Heart of America. Need any more hints? I'm sure you don't -- by now you know it's Chicago. Huge city, too, the biggest we've been to so far. And the crowds were proportionally just as large for the book signing and meet-and-greet. We spent a full day interacting and then some, actually having to continue on a bit into the following day. Didn't want to disappoint anyone, and it was nice to give the stragglers one more chance at an autograph or paw print.

If you like architecture, this place is ground zero for it. In fact, there's a whole style named after the city, with famous names like Louis Sullivan and H.H. Richardson allied with it. And then of course there's Frank Lloyd Wright, who designed several structures in the area and created something called Prairie Style. (See, you learn a lot when you read a little.) Penny and I took a stroll down South Michigan Avenue, and the whole western side of the street is just one stunning building after another.

Conveniently located at one end of that street is a world-class art museum, The Art Institute of Chicago. Amazing, amazing collection, especially if you like Impressionists and painters of that general time period. One canvas really stood out, though: "A Sunday Afternoon on the Island of La Grande Jatte" by Georges Seurat. It's actually not Impressionist, though, as one look at this huge painting will tell you. I guess they call the style Pointillism because the picture consists of little dots of paint of all different colors. I couldn't get enough of it -- incredible how the tiny flecks merge together to create something bigger. Color glasses were made for a moment like this. We went through a sizable chunk of the place, but I kept pulling Penny back to see the Seurat. One more chance, indeed.

Also took in a Cubs game at Wrigley Field. Wonderful old ballpark, with ivy on the walls, and an enthusiastically eccentric bunch of fans in the bleachers. One especially friendly fellow kept trying to get me to share his beer. No thanks -- booze is bad for dogs, and beer smells weird anyway. He finally stopped when I accidentally sneezed in his cup. Guess he draws the line at drinking doggy snot. Classic place, though, and glad we could go.

Yeah, the food was remarkable here, too. Great steakhouses, great ethnic eats, and pizza that's weird but tasty. They call it "deep dish," and it fills you up in a hurry. A small one was plenty for the two of us. Tried Italian beef sandwiches (a unique style of hoagie you only find here) and hot dogs (lots better than the ones you and I were tossed in that Ohio trailer park when we were begging for scraps). Even got to a Polish buffet, with goodies just like grandma used to make. Well, not my grandma, of course – she wasn’t Polish, right? Not to mention she was a dog…

Funny how it is with buffets, though. There's usually one dish you like more than anything else, and it's the thing you return for on subsequent trips. For me, I couldn't get enough of their roast beef and mushrooms in gravy. I couldn't resist thinking they should call it "Mittens" because it was my favorite thing there. Just like you on life's buffet, my darling. Can't wait to get back home and have a heaping helping of scrumptious kittycat lovin’! Oh well, just have to be content with the chair leg back at the hotel.

Anyway, off for the train station soon, heading to a furry con.

Love,

Bolt

Part VIII: Little White Lies

Mittens, my love,

Penny and I are in Cincinnati, where the Furry River Conference is happening -- a major cornerstone on our tour, with me being the main guest of honor.

First, a few things about the city. Great place for baseball, for one thing. We went to a Reds game and had a blast. They play in a fairly new retro-style park, which has great sight lines and a friendly, clean atmosphere. There's also a large, hilly urban park called Eden Park; it has ample romp-and-play room, which is a joy after being cooped up in hotel rooms and trains and such, but also contains an impressive moderate-sized art museum.

As for food -- two words: Cincinnati chili. A purist might be aghast at it, given all the sweet spices added to the recipe like cinnamon and allspice, but it's delicious. Penny got a large five-way and a couple of loaded coneys (little hotdogs to you and me), but I can only go as far as four-way chili. That would be chili, spaghetti, beans, and a mound of yellow shredded cheese. Gotta pass on the chopped onions, of course, though Penny enjoyed them. We found a place that doesn't use chocolate in the recipe, another doggy no-no. Yeah, a strict chili constructionist would refuse it, but hey, what do I know? I like it a lot. So sue me.

The furry con was entitled "Gone to the Dogs," and while I was the major draw, I was far from alone. You remember Lassie, the famous collie who had that show where her human boy was always falling down a well and had to be rescued? This is the latest incarnation of her, Lassie's great-great-great-great-grand-whatever named Sassie. Except it's not a her -- she’s a he! For that matter, so was Lassie. He said female collies shed their ruffs seasonally, so that's always been a skirt role for a boy pooch. Sassie's a good guy, but he does share one thing with girl collies -- he likes his males like they do. Even propositioned me, for dog’s sake! Had to tell him I don't swing that way, and besides, I'm already taken. When he asked me for details on you, he grinned and gave me a high five.

"Props!" he said. "Here's to the only dog with a sex life more outre than mine! Never even thought about doing it with felines before."

"Well," I laughed. "When you go cat, you never go back!"

He was fine with all this, and I guess it's flattering to know I’ve still "got it," whatever "it" is. Sassie found other… ahem… interests anyway among the other guests of honor. Turns out Goose, the son of the Jack Russell who played Neddie on "Glazier" and Br’er, the grandson of the St. Bernard mix who was Greyfuss on the "Olden Girls" show were far more accommodating. I wonder if that's what they mean by a "three dog night?" Gives a whole new meaning to the song "Eli’s Coming," doesn’t it? Eh -- those Hollywood types -- incorrigible, aren't they? Turns out I spent most of my down time hanging out with Zaui, the son of the collie mix who was Curry on "Nuts about You." He played a real dummy who always crashed into walls chasing a mouse, but he's actually very smart. We watched that quiz show, you know the trivia one where you’re given an answer and you have to provide the question? Wow -- was he ever good at that! Rattled off answers one after the other, and didn't miss a single one. Amazing to see him in action. Heh -- just goes to show you there's a big gulf between the actor and the role sometimes. Guys playing girls and smart guys playing dummies -- little white lies all over the place. That's the entertainment industry for you, and I was on the receiving end of the biggest lie of them all. Figures.

Anyway, we’re flying off to Philadelphia soon. Miss you more and more every day, and can't wait to get back.

Love,

Bolt

Part IX: When I Look in Your Eyes

Darling Mittens,

Greetings from the City of Brotherly Love! Sassie would approve, for sure. Ha ha!

What else can I say but "cheesesteaks?" Philadelphia is famous for them. We skipped the two classic places across from each other south of downtown (overrated, we’d read online), so we tried them at a couple spots near where we were staying. You apparently get them "wit’" or "wit’out" onions (Penny wit’, me wit’out, of course) and "wit’" or "wit’out" whiz (no, no, no! Not that kind of whiz! Cheese whiz! I could have provided the other kind myself on any old fire hydrant). Gloopy, thick stuff that goes surprisingly well with this type of meat, if not for much of anything else. Simply delicious. And roast pork with greens is nothing to sneeze at, either. Had that at Reading Terminal Market, a great spot to graze from vendor to vendor.

The meet-and-greet and book signing went fine -- nothing unusual, just the normal long, crowded line. Still amazes me how many people remember the show fondly and are looking forward to the book and film. Hope neither disappoints.

Surprised to find out there’s so much history here. We saw the Liberty Bell, with its famous crack and never to be rung again. Independence Hall, where the Declaration of Independence and US Constitution were debated and written. Elfreth’s Alley, the oldest continuously inhabited street in the nation. Christ Church, where George Washington and Benjamin Franklin and Betsy Ross worshipped. Carpenter’s Hall, where the First Continental Congress met. Learned a lot on that walk, didn’t I? So give me my Ph.D already…

But I have to say, it’s art that’s a close second to cheesesteaks as a city "must." The Barnes Foundation, the Rodin Museum, the Pennsylvania Academy of the Fine Arts, and the Philadelphia Museum of Art are all extremely good. Especially liked an arresting self-portrait by Pablo Picasso at the last of these places. The face is compelling yet dreamlike, the body is angular yet still athletic, but the eyes -- the eyes are riveting, so intense that they seem to stare right through you. You can't look away, they’re so striking.

Striking, special eyes. You’ve got those too, babe. And unlike Elton John, who apparently can’t remember if his lover’s eyes are green or blue, I know yours are green. Green like waving grass. Like shimmering leaves. Like a tart lime. Like the surging ocean. Like a leaping frog. Like an inscrutable artichoke. Like a lucky shamrock. Can’t possibly forget that.

Boy, do I ever miss you!

Love,

Bolt

Part X: She's Got Everything

Mittens, my precious,

The last couple days were spent in New York, and Penny and I took a nourishing bite out of the Big Apple after our book signing and meet-and-greet. It's also a special place for me because that's where you and I met. You remember all too well, I'm sure -- it's like it was yesterday for me. I still thought I had superpowers and slammed into you in that dingy alley, demanding you release Penny. Boy, what a piece of work I was, huh? But after some well-needed growing up on my part, it was obvious you were quite special. And you became even more so as the months and years went on, to the point where you're the most important being in my life. Maybe even more than Penny, which is saying something. Silly to think it, but I'm glad I was such a doofus -- otherwise, we’d have never met. I'll bet those dopey pigeons that introduced me to you are long dead by now, but if I ever happen to see one of them, I’ll thank him from the bottom of my heart.

Interestingly, we’re staying in a little boutique hotel about a block away from the alley where we met and right by the park where I got my head stuck in the fence. Penny took me for a bathroom walk right past both. Brought back memories. So many memories. It was quite something. You know I don't cry much, but I got a tear in my eye going by there.

Penny and I sampled some pizza at the spot in Greenwich Village that's supposed to be legendary. Legendary? Geez, when did I turn into that guy in the suit from "How I Met Your Mother?" Wow -- pizza! Chewy, tomato-ey, cheesy, thin crust unlike what we had in Chicago. I can see why humans love it so much. There's also the famous deli in the Lower East Side -- you know, the one with the fake orgasm scene from "When Harry Met Sally?" I'm going to immodestly say that I had my closest thing to a food orgasm while scarfing down their famous pastrami on rye. Penny had the same sandwich, though if it was affecting her in a carnal manner, it wasn't obvious to me. But yeah, she said it was the best she’d ever eaten. Concur.

This is also a city loaded with great art museums, and I gave those color glasses a real workout. The Metropolitan Museum? The Museum of Modern Art? The Whitney? The Frick Collection? The Guggenheim? It was the art equivalent of our best under-the-porch trysts (which, by the way, I'm sorely missing). Haven't had an art orgy this wonderful since that Paris trip so long ago. We even got a chance to go to the Statue of Liberty (fascinating, especially coupled with Ellis Island) and Times Square (talk about tacky! I'll bet they even had a big lighted billboard with my picture on it way back when to advertise the show). Really, this city's got everything.

But as I was saying before, this all pales next to the fact that we met in New York. Big cities can be so impersonal, but a connection like we have here makes this city seem -- well -- I guess you could say intimate somehow. The objective, the subjective. We had a talk like this once, if my memory hasn't failed me. It's all in how you see things, how you experience things. And they can both hold true. See, I can be a deep thinker sometimes. Honestly, I can...

Anyway, onto a train and on to Boston, which will be the last stop before returning. It's all fun and stimulating, but as Dorothy said in "The Wizard of Oz," there's no place like home. Especially because you’re there.

Love,

Bolt

Part XI: Till I See You Again

Mittens, my one and only,

Boston -- last stop before we return. It's been a good few weeks since Penny and I left, and as wonderful as this jaunt has been, getting home will be even better. I can tell Penny misses her mom -- she has said so a few times now, and I'm sure it's just the iceberg tip. As for me, I think Penny's mom is great, but it's you I want to see first thing when we get in that door.

Anyway. Boston doesn’t have an inferiority complex, that's for sure. They call themselves "The Hub of the Universe!" With a straight face, no less. Or just "The Hub" for short. I'm sure there are plenty of other cities and maybe some space aliens who will take issue with that idea. Their other major nickname is lots more down-to-earth, "Beantown." From the penthouse to the outhouse, right? Because we all know how beans affect you. I already tried them this trip in what was otherwise delicious Cincy chili -- never again!

As usual, our book signing and meet-and-greet was well attended. If everyone who showed up to our little sessions goes to the movie, it'll be a smash hit. But that's why they do things like this -- get the buzz going, get behinds in seats.

Yes, of course, we hit a Red Sox game. Fenway Park is the oldest continuous-use stadium in the majors, and it's just as quirky as Wrigley Field. Short right-field foul pole, big and high wall in left called "The Green Monster." We sat in the bleachers -- fun, mildly rowdy, and well-informed folks. Boston fans are supposedly the most knowledgeable in the majors, and I'll bet it's true. They seemed familiar with all the ins and outs of stats and stuff, even advanced metrics.

Turns out Boston's blessed with as much history and art as Philadelphia. The former happens all along the Freedom Trail: Faneuil Hall, Old City Hall, Paul Revere's House, Old North Church, and the ship Old Ironsides. That route runs right through the North End, crammed to the rafters with Italian restaurants. We stopped at one of the really good spots here (not the tourist traps -- Penny did her homework) for yummy pasta, then to an Italian pastry store for dessert. And the next day, we hit a restaurant so old that Franz Schubert was still alive when it opened. It's famous for grumpy waitresses (who just grumble for show nowadays), and dishes like prime rib and Indian pudding. Delicious and fun.

There are three main art museums: the huge Museum of Fine Arts, a unique little house museum called the Gardner, and the eclectic ICA which is home to cutting-edge works. Loved them all. Yay -- color glasses!

But I have to tell you about the last night before leaving, when I had the most remarkable experience of the whole trip. Penny wanted to see Harvard Yard after a full sightseeing day -- you know, that place where people who talk funny supposedly park their cars? (Turns out it’s not a parking lot, but a green central campus area.) We got there at night and pretty much had it to ourselves. It was light enough to see the buildings (a chapel, a library that looks like a Greek temple, old brick dorms) because there was a full moon and shimmering stars were out. Penny and I ran through the yard, chasing the moon in and out of trees and buildings. So otherworldly, so atmospheric, so magical! All I could think of was the Neil Young song "Cinnamon Girl." My red-haired master and I, playfully chasing the moonlight. Don't get me wrong, the museums and historic sites and ballgames have all been wonderful, but I guess sometimes it’s the unexpected one-off moments that end up being the most cherished and memorable.

Gotta say, this has been a great bonding experience for me and Penny, one that, believe it or not, has brought us even closer together. As if that were possible! I'll always hold this trip dear to my heart. But they also say that absence makes the heart grow fonder -- which in my case is absolutely true. Babe, I've never wanted or needed you more than I do this very minute. The flight will be touching down shortly and it won’t be long now. Love you dearly, Mittens, and I can't wait to see you again!

Love,

Bolt.


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